


I'm Just A Man

by POTFFAN



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Captivity, Major Character Injury, Martin Whump, Multi, Original Character(s), Pre-MJN, Torture, air force au, injured!martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-18 11:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3568595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/POTFFAN/pseuds/POTFFAN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin never spoke of his time in the RAF to the crew at MJN. He especially never mentions one particular incident that would forever be branded on his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. M.I.A

Frank Miers whistled as he strolled down the lane towards the mess hall. It was a lazy sort of day. The kind that made you feel lazy. He heard shouting and laughing coming from the mess hall and his pace quickened. Upon entering he found a group of men shouting and roaring over a game of cards. In the center of the madness was a red haired pilot with a devilish grin on his face.  
"Sorry boys, royal flush. Read it and weep," he taunted as he laid down his cards. The other players let out a groan and paid up.  
"Martin! I thought you had sworn off gambling!" Frank chided.  
"What can I say? We had some new recruits, thought I would give them a run for their money," he said with a childlike smile. Frank smirked at the younger man. Despite being nearly half his age, Martin and him had become very good friends. Martin finished counting his money and stuffed into his pocket before going outside and lighting a cigarette.  
"Those things will kill you, especially if you've had pneumonia," Frank scolded as he snatched it out of Martin's mouth, threw it on the ground, and stamped it out. "I don't ever want to see you in my clinic again."  
"Wasn't that bad," Martin protested as he pouted. Frank looked at him severely.  
"You stopped breathing kid. It was very bad. The rest of the medics had given you up. You're lucky ol' Frank was there. I don't ever want to force life back into you again. You hear?"  
"Yes mum," Martin said with a sarcastic smile. Frank ruffled his hair, knowing how much it irritated the young pilot. They were approached by a heavy set officer.  
"Crieff, you're needed in the general's office," he said blandly. Martin rolled his eyes at Frank as he followed the officer away.  
**********************  
Frank was still having a hard time letting the news set in.  
"So you've been asked to lead a strike team in Afghanistan?" Frank asked. It was later that night.  
"Yeah. Ol' Witmore thinks I'm the best pilot for the job. Imagine me! A bloody strike team leader!"  
"I'm very proud of you Martin. I think you've earned it. When do you leave?  
"O-four-hundred," Martin replied with a yawn. "Better get to sleep."  
"I'll be there to see you out."  
************************  
Martin with his bag on his back strolled towards the waiting jet. Eight other pilots were preparing themselves as well. He heard a shout and turned to see Frank standing at the fence. The older man waved to him and Martin grinned and waved back before turning and walked to his jet. Frank stayed until the jets took off in formation, swiftly carrying friends and brothers far away. Frank blinked rapidly to dissolved the tears in his eyes.  
************************  
Frank found himself one month later cleaning up an exam room. He'd just been patching up a young hotshot who'd gotten himself in a drunken brawl the night previous. The punishments devised by the officers would be far worse for the lad then the minor gnash he'd received on the side of his head. He was about to leave when a small pimple faced radio boy came running in huffing.  
"You're needed now! Strike Team Beta's come back, or what's left of it. Only three, Sir," the boy blurted urgently. Frank nearly stopped breathing.  
"Th-three? Only three out of eight?"  
"Yes sir. Two were killed. The rest are M.I.A." Frank's heart sank lower. Martin could be any one of those.  
"Take me there now!"  
Frank followed the boy to the hospital where the three injured pilots were being seen to. One out of three was gravely injured. The other two looked pretty bad, but they would live. Much to his despair, Martin was not among these. The general was present, attempting to get an account from the least injured of the pilots. He ran up to him.  
"Sir, please I must know. Where's the leader of the strike team. Where's Crieff?" Frank begged, hardly wanting to hear the answer. The general sighed.  
"Crieff is M.I.A, along with Teijents and Blake. We're currently trying to locate at least a ballpark area of where they might be but we're looking at slim chances. That bloody desert is like a black hole, swallowing whatever may come it's way. I'm sorry Miers. We'll do what we can, but there's little hope."  
Frank swallowed hard, sick worry and grief filled him. Martin was out in the desert somewhere, left for dead. M.I.A....


	2. Upon awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers!!!! Thought I'd add another Chaper just beacuse. Anyways, this one is short but I thought it would be necessary.....

Light streamed directly into his skull. How was this possible with his eyes closed? Carefully Martin opened them, which took quite a bit of effort. His lids were nearly glued shut with blood. With blurry vision he craned his head trying to see where he was. Big mistake. The second he moved a shooting pain went through his head making him gasp. Frantically he tried to gather his thoughts, trying to remember where he was.  
"That's right. Ambushed. Plane shot down. Crashed. Two pilots dead. The others? Carefully he looked around. His eyesight had cleared enough to see that he was in a small room the size of a garage. Several other pilots were laying around the building. He tried to get up but gasped in pain. There was blood on his shirt, his blood, and his shoulder was definately dislocated.  
"Fantastic," he muttered. Suddenly there was a clang. A man in a black combat uniform and scrappy stubble on his face sauntered up to him.   
"So, you think that a pathetic strike team could take out the Black Ring? Think again captain," he sneered. Before Martin could reply he slammed his booted foot into Martin's stomach. Martin never even had the air to scream as he was sent into darkness once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a bit short but I felt it was necessary to let you know Martin was still alive. As always, rate and review!


	3. Reflections pt.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it took so long. Been busy. Anyways this ended up being way longer than I thought so it's a two parter. Just a brief look into the history of Martin and Frank's friendship. Plenty of Martin whump. It's shameful I know. Enjoy!

Frank trudged warily to the mess hall, only this time there was no laughter, just the distant ghost of it. Martin and the other two pilots were still missing. It had been a month and hope was starting to wear thin. Frank sighed and thought back to a couple months ago when he'd first met Martin. It had been a relatively quiet night....

"Miers! Miers we need you in here now!" A medic called. Frank looked up and saw a group of medics race a gurney into an exam room. Frank rushed towards the commotion grabbing a stethoscope on the way. He hoped with some irritation that it wasn't some foolish boy who'd gotten himself into a fight. The sight that met his eyes upon entering the room however made his stomach drop. He was young, no more than twenty one. He was thin with whipcord muscles and a shock of messy reddish blond hair. Any other given day he was probably a healthy witty young man, but now his skin was a sickly pallor, his eyes sunken in, face haggard, and he was sweating and practically throwing his whole body into the task of breathing despite the oxygen mask on his face. 

"What are we looking at?" Miers asked as he unbuttoned the young pilot's shirt and pressed his stethoscope against his shuddering ribs. 

"His name is Martin Crieff. Twenty one year old male. Severe case of pneumonia. Apparently he's been sick for a while and tonight I guess he crashed. Frank quit listening after that.

"Crieff. Crieff I need you to look at me." The younger man's eyes drifted over to him and tried to focus on him, which was unsuccessful. Frank recognized the combination of fever and low oxygen levels. "Listen, it's gonna be alright. I need you to try and slow your breathing down ok? Slow it down."

Martin attempted to do what he was told and ended up being seized by a violent coughing fit. Little specks of blood stained the mask. Frank felt a shaky hand grab onto his with no other intention than to act as a sort of anchor as Martin groaned and fought for every breath. Frank could see the strain and exhaustion in Martin's face and knew that soon He would get too tired to breathe. More drastic measures must be taken in order to keep him from going into respiratory arrest.  
"Ok new plan. I need a ventilator ready and some heavy sedatives. Get a tracheal tube. Now!" He snapped at the other medics. Three out of the four medics rushed off to do as they were told while the other stayed with Frank to monitor the sick pilot, who's breathing was growing worse.

"Sir!" The medic called out. Simultaneously an alarm went off, Martin's body tensed, and then went slack as he gave up breathing altogether. Frank felt his world grow smaller.

"I need people in here now!" Frank shouted. "Martin, Martin stay with me. It's gonna be ok. Just stay with me," Frank said. He never addressed patients by their first names. 

Medics rushed in with the orders items and the room became a flurry of activity. Frank inserted the tube down Martin's throat in record time. A nurse connected it to a bag and began squeezing it rhythmically, forcing air into Martin's lungs. His heartbeat faltered a few times but then took up a weak but steady beat. Frank sighed with relief.

"Let's get him settled. Have the ventilator ready when we get there," Frank said quietly.

They wheeled Martin to a room where he was hooked up to a ventilator which took over the task of breathing for him. The medics began getting him connected to IV's delivering fluids, sedatives, and powerful antibiotics. He was also connected to monitors measuring out his blood pressure, heart rate, and oxygen levels, none of which looked good.

"Sir, I don't think he's going to make it. His vitals look terrible and he went a full two minutes without breathing. He's crashing too fast."

"Nonsense!" Frank snapped. "As long as there is a heart beat there is still hope. Now scuttle on if you're finished." 

The medics left and the room was silent except for the beeping of the heart monitor and the soft hissing of the ventilator as it breathed for Martin. The young man seemed more peaceful now that he'd been relieved of the burdensome task. Frank pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. He stayed up all night, checking the dangerously low vitals and praying that somehow, this one pilot would make it through the night....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye out for part two!!!!! As always rate and review. Still not sure if I should continue so let me know!!!


	4. Reflections pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two!!!!! Thought I'd give it to you guys early. Aren't I nice? Anyways, here it goes!

Frank was unaware of when he fell asleep beside Martin's bed. It was dawn when a soft grunt woke him. Bleary eyed he looked over at Martin and immediately snapped into attention. The younger man had a frown creasing his brow and his throat worked against the breathing tube as he stirred and the heart monitor sped up a bit. 

"Martin? Hey, it's alright. You're ok. Just relax. I'm here," Frank soothed.

The young pilot visibly relaxed and his eyes very slowly fluttered open. They were still very hazy and unfocused from the fever and medication but settled somewhat on Frank's face.

"Hey there. I'm Frank Miers. You're in hospital. Very bad pneumonia. You gave us quite a scare last night," he explained.

Martin gave a lazy nod of understanding. Frank saw him frown as he worked against the tube again. He witnessed him take a weak fighting breath against the machine.

"No, no, no Martin. Don't fight it. You stopped breathing last night. The tube is helping you breathe. Just let it do the work so you can heal alright?"

Martin barely managed a nod before his eyes slipped closed and he drifted off to sleep, exhausted by the small amount of effort used.

"Yeah. Just rest. I'm right here. I'm not leaving."

Despite the dooming diagnosis, Martin fought with all his might. His vitals steadily improved over the next week much to the amazement of the other medics. Frank stayed by Martin's side the whole time, keeping him company, reading to him, and helping him stay rested. The two became fast friends despite Martin's inability to talk. A week after being admitted, the medics removed the breathing tube. Frank was right beside him coaxing him through it and keeping him steady.

"Fr-Frank," Martin rasped sometime later when his throat felt better and he quit drifting in and out of unconsciousness. "Thanks."

"It was nothing kid. I wasn't about to let you go that easy. But it was you too. You're quite the fighter," Frank said.

"Got a reason to flight. I've got planes to fly," Martin said as he smiled warily. "But still. Couldn't have fought without you." 

"You know what kid? You're alright."

"Not so bad yourself, old man," Martin said wryly as he drifted off to sleep.

 

Frank laughed bitterly as cold reality hit him. Martin was a fighter. And he loved to fly. He'd managed to fight back then. If only he could fight now, wherever he might be. The lack of the young man's presence was like a hole in Frank's heart. They had to find him. They had to. M.I.A, M.I.A, M.I.A seemed to be pounding in his head over and over. Oh Martin where are you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of it. We will get back to the present day now. As always rate and review. I love getting feedback as a blossoming writer!!!


	5. Rescue Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up! Aren't I efficient? Anyways, time for a little war action!

"Miers," an officer said. Frank roused from his dozing.

"Hm? Yes?" He said groggily.

"The general would like to see you," he said. Frank nodded without a word and followed the officer to the general's office. The tall rather stooped man was studying some files on his desk when Frank came in. Frank saluted his senior and the general returned the gesture before motioning for Frank to sit.

"We've recently discovered a prison some four-hundred clicks from here. If our intel is correct there are several of our men being held prisoner there. We're gonna try and send in a relief team to rescue them. I'm putting you on the team. You are our best and most expirienced medic. I don't begin to doubt that won't be casualties and I want our top man on it. 

"Yes sir. Thank you sir. When am I leaving?"

"The team is leaving tonight a zero-hundred hours. It's best we try to go under cover of darkness and take them by surprise. We'll send the strike team ahead so the area will be cleared for you.

"Yes Sir. Thank you sir," Frank said as he left the office. His mind was racing. Prisoners. Maybe Martin would be among them!

He gathered his team which consisted of two other medics and supplies were packed and loaded onto the helicopter. Frank was an excellent leader ensuring that his team would be ready. The strike team left at twenty-three-hundred hours and then the medical team followed an hour later. Frank loved being in the air. Despite the constant danger of being in the RAF the exhilaration of take off would never lose its luster for him.

"Prison's twenty clicks out. We should be hearing word of the strike team any minute now," the pilot flying the helicopter reported. Frank mentally prepared himself. He shoved all thoughts of Martin out of his head. He couldn't let that distract him now. He had a job to do and potentially lives depended on him to do it. Frantica crackling from the helicopter's radio shocked him out of his reverie. 

"Mayday! Mayday! Strike team down! Strike team down! Abort mission! I repeate! Abort! It's a trap!" A frantic voice screamed over the radio, his voice broken up by the static. As if to underline the panicked cries something exploded near the belly of the helicopter. Frank almost fell out. 

"Mayday! Mayday! We're under attack! Mayday!" The pilot sounded over the radio as he swung the helicopter around trying to turn from danger. Several more loud explosions resounded and Fank saw two jets streak past the helicopter. Suddenly an explosion went off, the whole helicopter shuddered and groaned, then pitched forward and rapidly began to descend. 

"Mayday! We've been hit! We've been hit! We're going down!" The pilot screamed. Frank and the other pilots scrambled to strap themselves in. The ground was rushing towards them.

"Brace for impact!" Frank called before they hit the ground and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliff hanger!!!!!! Keep those comments rolling and I'll give you another chapter my poppets!


	6. Captured!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! That's efficiency for you! That was a reward for all your wonderful comments. Keep em rolling! Anyways, time to see what happens!

Frank awoke with a jerk. His leg throbbed painfully. Looking down he saw that it was indeed broken. Blood trickled down the side of his head from a large gnash on the side of his head. Other than that he appeared to have no serious injuries. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, he surveyed his surroundings. The room he was in was hot. Very hot. And small. Glancing around he saw in the dim light and to his horror, seven or eight British pilots lay scattered about the room. Frank recognized them all. They wear the missing members of the strike team that was under Martin's command, the second strike team, and the two members of his team. Groaning in pain he pulled himself up so he was standing in one leg and started to hobble over to the door. On the way he tripped over someone's legs and very nearly fell. Turning he saw....his heart dropped in his stomach.

"M-Martin?" Frank gasped as he dropped to his knees and crawled towards the young man. "Oh my gosh Martin I thought I'd never see you again." He touched the young man's face as if to reassure himself that he was real. Martin blinked his eyes open and looked at Frank.

"Fr-Frank?" Martin murmured as he opened his eyes and tried to get them to focus. The amount of time it took for Martin to complete this small task worried Frank. Sure sign of a concussion if the tell-tale blood on the side of his head was anything to go by. He also noticed Martin's breathing was incredibly labored. 

"Hey, I'm here. It's alright now. Think you can sit up for me so I can look at you real quick?" He said gently. Carefully Martin started to sit up when suddenly he jerked and cried out in pain before slumping back against the wall and wrapping his Uninjured arm around his side. His breathing was frantic now.

"Martin. Martin look at me. Just calm down ok? Slow breaths. That's it. Now listen to me. I think you've broken your rib. We've got to brace it against something so you don't puncture your lung. I'm gonna help you lay down alright? We'll take this slow."

There was a lot of shifting as slowly and carefully Frank lowered Martin onto his back against the floor. He peeled off his jacket and folded it under the young man's head like a pillow. Gently he palpitated the pilots sides and found that indeed two ribs on the left side were broken. Thankfully they were only tiny fractures and in his lower ribs so there was very little chance of them puncturing his lung as long as no stress was added to them. He unbuttoned Martin's shirt and found the source of the bleeding was from several superficial cuts in his chest and abdomen from the crash. At this point they were non-fatal. 

"What happened Martin?" Frank asked softly.

"Ambushed," Martin croaked from between cracked lips. "They shot down our planes. Killed two guys right in front of me. It-it's was awful. They shot my plane right out of the sky. Don't think they wanted me to die yet though. S-said they would make m-me pay." Martin's eyes were losing focus again as he battled with unconsciousness.

"Who? Who's they?" Frank asked confused.

"The-the Black Ring," Martin whispered with horror in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally reunited!!!! Poor Martin! It's shameful sometimes how much I enjoy Martin whump. As always rate and review!


	7. Watch it Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!!! Next chapter up. Plenty of Martin whump to go around for those who have been craving it.

Frank's blood turned cold. He had not the slightest idea about what Martin was speaking of, but the fear and the desperation in his voice frightened him. He put his hand against Martin's forehead to make sure he didn't have a fever which would signal impending infection. Thankfully he didn't. 

"Don't worry Martin. We're going to get out of here somehow. I promise," Frank soothed gently. Martin let out a shuddering breath and and his eyes slipped closed. Frank knew it was probably not good for him to be sleeping with the obvious concussion he had but Martin looked so tired and as if ten years had been added to him. Sleep would be the best thing for him. 

Frank however didn't sleep. During the night one of the more seriously injured pilots and one of the medics that had been with him died. They had sustained very serious injuries and lack of proper medical equipment sealed their fate despite Frank's efforts. Through all this, Frank never saw even a hint of their captors and white hot rage burned in him. Who dared to do this? He would make them pay. Dawn found him dozing restlessly beside Martin. The loud clang of a door woke him up with a start. Martin woke up too and Frank could see the fear in his eyes.

"Hey. It's alright," Frank reassured as a man in black fatigues followed by four others similarly dressed sauntered in.

"Welcome pilots one and all! I hope you had a good night's sleep?" The leader grinned. "My name is Kazime." He chuckled as he paced up and down the room, taking in the sight of his motley prisoners. He spotted the dead pilot and medic. "Oh, they decided to check out early eh? Take them out of here." 

Two of the four men swiftly dragged the corpses away and out of the room. Frank felt the fury building in him. Martin must have sense it, because he felt him grab onto his arm. The man came to a stop in front of them. Frank felt the cold eyes burn into him until he looked up and saw that Kazime's glare was reserved for Martin.

"Hello captain," he smirked. "I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced." Kazime nodded his head and Martin was sized by two pairs of rough hands. Frank could see the younger man bite his lip to keep him from crying out as he was jerked roughly to his feet. He was dragged to the opposite wall and his arms were chained above his head. Martin groaned as they moved his dislocated shoulder further than it was supposed to go. Kazime produced a black whip and walked casually towards Martin. 

"I told you I would make you pay," he growled in a low voice before turning to the rest of the prisoners. "This is what happens when you dare try and cross me." 

There was a crack as he unfurled the whip and then he brought it down hard on Martin's back. The whip bit deep into Martin's shirt and cut into his skin. Martin held his tongue and forced himself not to scream. He knew if he were going to make it through this he would need to detach his mind from his body. He needed to focus on anything other than the pain. Enraged, Kazime continued to bring the whip down on his back. Martin thought of planes and of flying. Oh how he loved to fly! He loved the peaceful feeling that came over him when he was up in the air. If it were possible he would live in the sky. He remembered as a young boy all he wanted to be was an aeroplane, if only it meant he could fly. 

A bucket of ice cold water shocked him back. It was so unexpected and it hit his torn up back so suddenly that it felt like someone had hit him with a fiery hammer. Before he could stop it a harsh scream tore from his lips. Kazime laughed and unchained him, only to be shoved down onto his back. The movement jostled Martin's broken ribs sending a shooting pain that almost took his breath away. He arched his back as he cried out again. 

"Leave him alone!" Frank cried as he started to limp to Martin. One of Kazime's men grabbed him by the shoulder and punched him in the gut sending him to the floor gasping for breath. 

"N-no. Pl-please....y-your fight....is with...m-me," Martin gasped weakly as he tried to rise on one elbow. Kazime put a booted foot on Martin's chest and pushed him back to the floor producing a softer more strangled cry from the injured pilot. 

"I swear to you captain I will make you suffer unlike anything you've ever known in your entire life," he snarled before he gestured to his men and they left, locking the door behind them. Martin groaned and rolled to his Uninjured side panting shallowly with his eyes half closed. 

"Martin?" Franked called gently as he cautiously moved to Martin's side. The pilot let out a pained grunt in acknowledgement. "Hey, I'm gonna look at your back a sec and see if I can try to clean it up alright?" 

Not waiting for a reply Frank moved again so he was facing Martin's back. He tore away what was left of Martin's shirt and winced. The young man's back was bloodied, oozing blood from multiple deep wounds. He knew it probably stung badly. Using the pieces of Martin's shirt he cleaned the wounds the best he could then he stripped off his own shirt so he could put it on Martin. The less those wounds were exposed to the open air the better. As he struggled the half conscious pilot into the shirt he noticed the tell-tale swelling in Martin's shoulder. 

"Gonna have to set that arm kid," he said as he situated Martin so his head was resting in his lap. Martin let out a soft exhausted groan. "But you need to rest for now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably the cruelest person ever for doing that to poor Martin. And I'm just getting warmed up! Keep those reviews coming! Also, to any artists out there, I would love if someone could do fan art or something. I would but I'm rubbish at drawing. Keep the reviews coming!!!


	8. A Bit of Reprieve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up! Loving all your great reviews and support!

It was Kazime's men, not Frank who set Martin's arm that evening. Martin had been lying on his side sleeping fitfully and still suffering from his recent bout with the whip when two men entered the room with a clang. Martin jerked his head up which he instantly regretted as it sent fiery hot pain down his back. One of the men, a portly fellow with a beard gestured to Martin. His companion, a massively tall man with large muscles grabbed him, hoisted him up so he was in a sitting position, and pushed him against the wall. Martin cried out and and protested but the man continued to hold him down. 

The other man squatted beside Martin and took hold of his injured arm. Martin instantly knew what they were intending to do and immediately began to thrash and fight back. Muscles tightened his grip and Portly prepared to set the shoulder back. 

"Pl-please. Please don't. Please!" Martin begged. Muscles shoved his head back. Suddenly there was a soft pop as Portly jerked Martin's arm up and the joint shifted back into place with a click. The guttural scream that followed would forever haunt Frank. He knew more than likely Martin had been tensed up for the entire procedure, causing even more pain. He also witnessed that the procedure was done in the most rough and crude manner. The two men left Martin in a trembling heap.

Frank crawled over to him, dragging his broken leg behind. Martin was slumped over clutching his shoulder and trying desperately to fight back tears. His breathing was harsh and ragged. 

"Hey. It's alright Martin. Just breathe," Frank encouraged as he pulled back the shirt to inspect his shoulder. The bruising and swelling was concerning but would go down with time. He knew Martin was in a tremendous amount of pain but there was nothing he could do. All he could do was stand by him.

"It's ok Martin. It's gonna be ok. Just breathe. I'm here," Frank whispered long into the night.

The next morning Frank was woken up by the rough burning sensation in his throat. His head felt heavy. Dehydration. He glanced over at Martin who was asleep, taking in his pale complexion and dry cracked lips. Gingerly he picked up his hand and squeezed his index finger. The rate it took for the skin to go from white to pink again concerned him greatly. Martin was very dehydrated, as well as the other pilots who had been captured a month previous. The door clanged open and several men with sacks trudged in. Kazime followed and Frank prayed that he wasn't here with diabolical purposes. Martin really couldn't take anymore. The men gave a sack to each prisoner except Martin and then left. Upon opening it Frank found half a small loaf of stale bread and a pint container of vodka. Hardly anything to help his thirst but it would do. He did also intend to share it with Martin who obviously had been left out of the rations on purpose. 

"Martin? Martin wake up. Come on Crieff!" He said gently and Martin's eyes slid open. "Hey buddy. Got something that will take the edge off ok?" Martin nodded and Frank tipped the container of vodka to his lips. Martin took several big sips and much to Frank's relief he saw his body visibly relax and the color return somewhat to his face. 

"That's some good stuff," he murmured with a sarcastic grin. Frank was relieved. 

"Told ya it would help," He said with a smile. "There's some bread here. Want some?" The thought of eating made Martin's stomach crawl.  
"Thanks Frank. You go ahead. I'll eat later," he said. Exhaustion was creeping into his bones now that the alcohol was taking some of the pain away. Frank looked at him.

"I'm sorry kid. I'm sorry we're in this mess," Frank said sadly.

" 's not your fault," Martin slurred tiredly. "Just got into a bit of a fix. 'S nothing we can't get out of. Especially if they plan on pumping me full of that vodka." This was said with another yet weaker grin. Martin shivered slightly and Frank reached forward, putting his hand on Martin's forehead.

"Don't be catching an infection Martin. That would not be a good thing to have right now. You're feeling a little warm."

"Not fever. Just this room. Now bugger off. I want to sleep," the younger man said groggily. He shifted so he was laying on his un-injured side on the dirt floor of the cell and gradually drifted off to sleep again. Frank watched as his shivering continued for the better part of the hour, and his worry grew. In a room with the ambient temperature of an oven Martin shouldn't be shivering. Frank sat beside the form of his sleeping best friend, anxiety eating at him like a harmful insect.


	9. Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm so late!! Had a busy weekend. Here it goes!

The next couple of days are a nightmare. Despite the on coming fever and his own injuries, Martin seems to try and keep up the spirits. He claims it's the vodka talking. He limps over to each prisoner in turn, encouraging them, making them laugh, and calling Frank over if their injuries need to be seen to. Much to his distress, another pilot died. They saw none of their captors for a week save for the men who brought in food. Martin, feeling sick but trying to hide it, refused to eat, claiming that Frank needed it more than he did. Instead he stuck to drinking the vodka with an almost frightening ferocity. Frank grew more worried by the day as Martin grew thinner and thinner. He did manage to get a few pieces of vodka soaked bread into him which was a small victory in his mind. 

A week later Martin was dozing when a cry woke him up. Sitting up he saw one of the men that had been in his strike team being beaten by one of Kazime's thug. He was showing no mercy. He blood boiled.

"Hey! Knock it off!" Martin shouted as he gave him a weak shove and crouched beside the pilot, trying to examine his injuries. The thug loomed menacingly but Martin drew to his full hight and stood firm. "No one messes with any of my men. You want to hurt him, you'll have to go through me." 

"That can be arranged!" The thug shouted before belting Martin across the face. The pilot was knocked to the floor and the man jumped him, punching him in fury. Despite his weak broken body, Martin fought back with all his might and succeeded in breaking the man's nose and wrist. The man slunk away muttering curses at Martin. Martin only scowled back. 

That night things took a turn for the worse. It was dark when Kazime slipped in with a knife. He'd observed his prisoners closely, unknown to them, and noticed that Martin held a treat attachment to the old medic that had been captured. The arrogant little dog would pay for daring to defy him and his men. What better way than to take away something he loved? He slunk to the corner where Martin and Frank were sleeping. He was so eager in his deed he accidentally kicked a pebble, making a soft clatter. Martin's eyes snapped open and Kazime thrusted his knife out. 

In hindsight everything worked out better than Kazime had planned. He would never have calculated that a boy in Martin's condition nor stature could have moved so fast, nor could he have accounted for the depth of loyalty instilled in the young pilot. The was a shout of alarm, a shuffle and the a sound that was a mixture between a cry and a whimper. Frank leaped up and snapped on the single lightbulb that hung from the ceiling. Frank's heart nearly stopped. Kazime's knife was protruding from Martin's stomach. The wicked man laughed as he drew it out.

"I told you I'd make you pay," he sneered. 

"Martin!" Frank screamed. He rushed to catch his friend as he slumped limply to the floor. Martin's face was pale and clammy, showing he was in shock and hadn't registered quite what had happened. 

"Fr-Frank?" Martin murmured in a frightened and confused voice. He tried to sit up but groaned in pain. His hand moved clumsily to his wound and he drew his fingers back. They were stained red. Everything clicked, including the pain. 

"Frank!" Martin cried as his muscles spasmed and he cried out in agony. Kazime chuckled as he walked away, locking the door behind him. 

"Martin calm down. It's alright. It's alright," Frank soothed as he tried to calm down his own screaming panic. 

"Agh! Agh it-it hurts!" Martin cried as he gasped frantically for breath. 

"Someone! I-I need something! He's bleeding out please!" Frank pleaded. "Breathe Martin. You've got to breathe. Just slow it down. Please someone!" 

"Here," use this to stop the bleeding," the pilot Martin rescued earlier that day said as he handed Frank his undershirt. Another man came up. It was the other surviving medic.

"Here, lie him flat. Gravity will be working for us. Gently, gently," he ordered as they lowered Martin to the floor. Frank pushed the fabric up against Martin's wound, trying desperately to stanch the sickening flow of blood. By now Martin was half conscious and couldn't remember where he was. He screamed in pain and tried to flail at whatever was causing him agony. 

"Hold him down! Hold him down before he hurts himself further!" Frank commanded and the pilot did as he was told. "Martin breathe. Just calm down ok? You're going to be fine. It's ok. It's gonna be ok," Frank said over and over and he tried to stop the bleeding. Martin sobbed out choking gasps and called his name. He grabbed onto his shoulder as he groaned. The medic returned with a shirt and a ratty blanket. 

"One of the other men was willing to give up his shirt and I found this old blanket in the corner. We've got to keep him warm to stave off the shock. I'll see if I can get some water. The bleeding's stopped enough. Wrap him up tight."

The medic left again. Carefully Frank wrapped Marin's entire midsection in the makeshift bandage. Martin groaned and his eyes started to close.

"Martin! Crieff you listen to me soldier. You are not to go to sleep until we get some water into you do you understand? Now open your eyes!" Martin's eyes slid open. "That's it. Now you keep them open you hear me? Don't you dare go to sleep on me!" Frank felt a tear run down his face. 

The medic returned with a cup of water. It was warm, and Frank was sure it was dirty but it was better than nothing. He held Martin's head up while the medic tipped the cup to his lips. Martin feebly drank a few sips before he groaned and slumped back in Frank's arms. His eyes slipped shut. His breathing was weak and shallow. Frank's fingers sought out the pilot's pulse. It was weak and thready.

"He's in bad shape Frank. I don't think he's gonna pull through this time. Wounds like this require immediate attention and we don't have anything," the medic said sadly. 

"Nonsense!" Frank snapped as he looked up from Martin's pale face. "He will live. I will make him live!" Frank said with desperation and ferocity. 

Frank held Martin all night. The young man whimpered and groaned in the abyss between consciousness and unconsciousness. All he was aware of was the gut wrenching pain. A thin sheet of sweat began to form on his face. 

"Please Martin. Don't die. Please. I'm begging you," Frank pleaded softly all night long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliff hanger!!!! Will Martin survive? I do feel like I've just kicked a puppy. Rate and review!!!


	10. Dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!!!! Another chapter up. This ones full of angst. I'd also love it if someone could do some fan art for this particular scene. (Wink wink) anyways. Here we go!

Frank shivered in the dank cell. For some reason the air had become cold. The mood had changed in the tiny prison. Every surviving pilot winced whenever a sound of pain escaped Martin's lips, knowing that he was in agony because he'd stood up for what was right. Frank glanced at his friend who was trembling violently despite the sweat running down his face. Reaching out he rested his hand on Martin's forehead. If Martin hadn't caught and infection before, he definitely had one now. His skin was hot to the touch. 

It was several minutes before Frank realized the pilot's eyes were open, glassy and fever hazed, and looking at him. Frank watched his chest heave rapidly as Martin tried to breathe around the pain. Gently Frank took Martin's hand and placed it on his own chest. 

"Slow Martin. Like mine. Slow measured breaths. In....and out. In....and out. Good Martin." 

"It-it hurts!" Martin whimpered frantically.

"I know Martin. I know. But you need to breathe slowly. Just follow me." Frank waited until Martin's breathing slowed to a relatively slower pace. "I'm just gonna take a look at the wound again ok?" Pulling back the blanket Frank winced. Martin had bled through again. Despite their efforts, the wound was still stubbornly bleeding if not sluggishly. Frank hoped this was because it was clotting and not because there was hardly enough to bleed. Frank stripped off his shirt and added it to Martin's makeshift bandage. He knew that the blanket would probably have worked better, but currently that was the only thing keeping his friend warm.

"Frank?" Martin murmured as he coughed weakly.

"Shhhhh, it's alright," Frank murmured softly. "Don't talk. You need to save your strength."

" 'm dying," he said faintly.

"Stop it Martin! You're not going to die. Do you hear me? You're gonna be fine. We're gonna get you out of here. We will fix you up. And you're going to go back to the sarcastic annoying twat that you always are. You're gonna be fine." 

"You'll bury me out by the old airfield in Fitton won't you?" Martin wheezed out over four separate breaths."

"No I won't because firstly you're not going to die. And secondly some charter firm bought that. Some little old lady and her rickety aircraft."

"C-can't.....fight....anymore. T-too tired," Martin rasped.

"You're going to be fine. Don't say those things Martin. Please. You've still got some fight left in you."

Tears were running down his face. He knew he was lying right to his face. Martin lost so much blood already. His body was too weak to fight the infection that was ravaging through him, raising his fever and making his stomach swell with the internal bleeding. His frame was too thin, bones protruding where they shouldn't from lack of proper diet. His skin stretched, pulling the wounds on his back painfully. Frank could visibly see his broken ribs. 

"You're a fighter Martin. You've just got to fight a little bit more. Please, for me," Frank begged as he cupped Martin's bruised and sweaty face in both his hands forcing the younger man to look at him. "I promise with everything that I am that I will get you out of here. You've got a reason to live remember? Your winged princess can't fly without you."

Martin gave him a weak nod and a grin that was a mere ghost of what it normally was before pain and unconsciousness pulled him back under. Frank began to viciously plan a way to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of Frank being a figurative father to Martin since he is son young and also Martin's father was not the best. Did anyone catch my allusion to MJN???? Anyways, write and review!


	11. Never the Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!!! Upon the request of my good friend, Consulting_Captain_Sherlock_Crieff, another chapter is up! Oh don't we all so enjoy Martin whump?

The door swung open with a clang. Kazime strolled in and walked right up to Martin who was sleeping restlessly. He woke the pilot up with a kick to the side. Martin awoke with a pained scream as the kick combined with the knife wound made him feel like his insides were going to explode. He curled up on his side moaning. Kazime grabbed him and thrusted him against the wall.

"I told you I'd make you pay," Kazime sneered. "And now I will make you suffer unlike anything you have experienced." He flung Martin carelessly to the floor, making him cry out again. 

"Leave him alone!" Frank cried as he floor tackled Kazime. The thug kicked Frank in the face and jumped to his feet sneering as he brushed off his sleeve. "I think I'll kill you first, make the boy suffer mentally before I kill him."

"No!" Martin shouted. Adrenaline surged through him and suddenly the pain was gone and all he could focus on was saving his best friend. Martin became a bundle of wild fury as he tackled Kazime and began beating him mercilessly. Kazime didn't even have time to call for help as Martin slammed his head against the concrete. He didn't realize that the thug was dead and continued to beat him. 

"Martin! Martin stop! MARTIN!" Frank shouted as he lugged the pilot off the dead man. Martin continued to thrash in blind rage. "Martin!" Frank forced the man to look at him. Martin was breathing frantically but he managed to get his eyes to focus on Frank. "Hey," Frank murmured, smoothing down Martin's wild curls. "It's alright."

Martin glanced at the dead thug and then back at Frank, realizing what he'd done. His bottom lip quivered and his hands trembled. Frank enveloped him in a hug. Martin had shot down hundreds of planes, but never had he killed someone with his own hands. After all, Martin was just a boy. A boy who would never be the same after going through all that he had.

"It's alright Martin. It's alright," Frank soothed gently. He waited until Martin's ragged breathing had calmed somewhat. "Now let's go. We need to get you out of here and to a hospital." 

They silently left the cell, leaving Kazime far behind. Frank normally would have tried to help the others out but none were injured as badly as Martin and Martin needed help. The others could get themselves out. Despite being powered by adrenaline and the hope of escape, Martin was crashing fast. They had to get out of here quickly. 

They limped as fast as the could around a bunker and came upon two of Kazime's men. Frank tried to fight them off as best as he could but they were too strong. They flung him and Martin down and aimed their guns at them. Frank squeezed his eyes shut. Bullet shots rang out. To his utter surprise, there was no pain, no screams. Looking up, he saw the two men sag limp and dead to the floor. Behind them was the pilot Martin rescued holding a gun.

"Kazime was a foolish man to come armed," he said. "Now go. You must go quickly. I passed some jeeps on my way here. They can get you far from this place. Now go! The shots will bring more!" He urged as he helped them to their feet. 

"What about you?" Martin asked worriedly. All three knew what would happen if a prisoner was found outside the prison. 

"You saved my life. I'm returning the favor. You're a goon man, Crieff. You've got a bright future ahead. Now go! Go!" He shouted as gun shots rang out in the distance. Frank and Martin limped in the direction of the jeeps. At some point Martin's knees buckled and he nearly went down in the sand if Frank hadn't pulled him back up.

"Not now Martin. Come on kid we're almost there. Just a little bit further," he urged. Martin struggled to his feet and plunged on. They found the jeeps. 

Frank hauled Martin into the passenger side before swinging into the driver's seat. More gunshots rang out and Frank saw a group of soldiers running to them in the rear view mirror. Slamming his foot down on the gas, the jeep's tires screeched before the vehicle shot forward, kicking up dust and sand into the faces of the oncoming attackers. Frank drove like a madman, plummeting the jeep headlong into the wire fence and tearing right through it. He had no clue of where he was going, he just knew he was getting further and further away from that dreadful place that would never cease from haunting his memories for the rest of his life. He heard a low groan and looked over. Martin was slumped over in the seat panting softly. The action had caused the knife wound as well as the wounds on his back to start bleeding again. He looked even closer to death now that the adrenalin crash had left him drained.

"Hold on kid. Please. Just hold on," Frank murmured worriedly as he drove further and further into the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less of a cliff hanger than usual. Again hinting at some fan art? It is my birthday after all. ;) Rate and Review as usual!!!


	12. Long Way till Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another birthday treat!!!! Another chapter up!!!

Frank collapsed in the burning sand. Martin went down too but the younger man managed to keep himself up on all fours. 

"C-come on.....mate. J-just a......little further. Should be s-something s-soon...." Martin gasped. 

He was nearly white he was so pale. Definitely very sick. His eyes couldn't focus anymore. Yet something, something was pushing his half dead body on. Maybe it was the desperate look in Frank's eyes, maybe it was the love of his planes and flying that drove him. He looked over his shoulder. Frank was lying face down in the sand, dehydration and malnutrition getting the better of him. Martin pulled himself up and forced himself to stay upright before staggering over to Frank.

"Come on Mate. A little further," he huffed as he hauled Frank to his feet. They staggered a few steps before Martin cried out in agony and collapsed. He coughed violently and moaned, curling up on his stomach. Hearing Martin cry out roused Frank a little.

"Martin? Hey it's all right," Frank soothed gently. He put one hand on his stomach, trying to ease off the flow of blood once more and the other on the pilot's forehead. Martin was burning up with fever.

"G-gotta g-get.....up!" Martin choked out as he weakly tried to get up.

"No, no, no. Just take a break for a tick. Breathe slowly alright?" Frank urged as he eased Martin onto his back. "Take a break and then we'll keep going." Frank pulled back the bandages and winced. The wound was red around the edges and definitely very infected. He looked into the pilot's bloodshot eyes. There was still some twinge of hope. After a while he looked over at him. "Ready to go?"

It took almost every ounce of strength for Martin to pull himself up again, but he did it. Frank leaned a little on Martin to aid his broken leg and the pair continued on their seemingly endless trek. The jeep had run out of gas ages ago and they had left it behind. There was no emergency supplies and they had walked for lord knows how long without food or water. By dusk every ounce of energy had been sucked out of them. Frank collapsed again and couldn't find the strength to get up. He pulled himself over to Martin and checked his pulse and breathing. Both were weak and unsteady. Martin was fading fast.

"I'm sorry Martin. I'm so so sorry." Frank sobbed as tears ran down his face. He'd failed Martin. 

He laid there and cried for a good five minutes when suddenly a noise pierced the air. He raised his head. Perhaps it was just his dehydrated mind playing tricks on him. No, he was sure this time. It was the sound of a helicopter. For a moment he feared it might be Kazime's men coming to find him. A helicopter loomed into view he nearly cried tears of joy when he saw that blessed Union Jack painted proudly on the tail fin. He jumped up and down on one leg and waved his arms wildly. To his sobbing relief the helicopter started to land close by.

"Martin! Martin we're saved! They've found us!" Frank cried. There was no response from the prone pilot. "Martin? Martin!!!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER CLIFF HANGER!!! What do you think? Shall I just leave it like this?


	13. Hoping, Praying, Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up! My birthday was extra special with you all! Here it goes!

Slowly Martin regained some sort of feeling in his body. It mainly consisted of numbness. Garbled voices pounded his aching head. There were hands on his his forehead, pulling at the bandages around his stomach, and on his shoulder reassuringly. Something plastic was being pushed onto his face, covering his mouth and nose. Suddenly breathing became a bit easier. He cracked his eyes open. Everything was blurry and disoriented. The numbness was ebbing away and giving in to a sharp pain in his stomach every time he breathed. 

"F-Frank?" He murmured thought his voice was muffled by the mask. His vision was clearing somewhat but he couldn't see his friend. "Frank! Frank?!" He was getting more panicked. He thought maybe the device on his face was preventing him from being heard. There was an incessant beeping somewhere beside him and it was speeding up as he grew more desperate. He had to find Frank. Frank would fix everything. 

Weakly he tried to sit up. Hands were back on him, gently forcing him back down. The beeping was getting faster, making him panic more. He felt a sharp twinge in the crook of his arm. Drugs, he thought. They're trying to drug me. The panic rose. The plastic contraption was being forced back on his face. With every ounce of strength Martin had left he lashed out at the hands holding him. Frank wasn't here, which meant that Kazime must still have him captured. Stronger hands held him.

"Frank! Frank!" He cried before screaming out in agony. The pain had returned full force and it felt like something was tearing a hole straight through him. Someone was holding his arm down. He thrashed and screamed, fighting whatever was trying to confine him and shaking the contraption off his face once more. Suddenly there were hands on his face, gentle hands, familiar ones. Looking up his eyes managed to focus on the face of his friend before going blurry again, but he was there. He was going to fix everything.

"Hey, Martin? Martin you with me?" Martin managed a slight nod as he sucked in frantic breaths. "It's alright Martin. Everything's gonna be alright now. Here, you gotta keep this on alright? It'll help. Don't fight it." One of the hands disappeared and the plastic thing was once more pressed to his face. "Deep breaths Martin. That's it. Just relax. They're going to give you something for the pain." 

Martin felt his head being lifted up a bit before settling back down on Frank un-injured leg. He shut his eyes for the moment and took deep breaths as Frank coached him. Something cold was flowing into his arm making him shiver. Something warm was placed over him. Suddenly if felt like he was drifting. He was floating away with nothing to grant onto. Frank sensed his panic. 

"It's alright. Just let go Martin. Get some sleep," Frank soothed. Martin blinked lazily a few more times before his eyes stayed shut and he passed out. Frank sighed as he smoothed down the pilot's curls. He had an IV in as well, which was hydrating his body enough so he could drink some water without going into shock. Martin was already having blood and much needed fluids dripping intravenously into his body through his. The attending medic pulled back the blanket and examined the wound closely before gently palpitating Martin's belly. 

"He feels pretty firm. Mostly likely he's had some massive internal bleeding. He switched on his radio. "This is Harrison. I'm going to need an operation room prepped and ready for immediate surgery upon landing. Crieff's hurt pretty badly. 

Frank but his lip concern. It had been confirmed that his broken leg would not require surgery but he would be in a cast for quite some time. He would also needed to be kept over night on an IV to treat his dehydration as well as some light antibiotics for a few minor infected cuts. Martin, however, was in critical condition. He'd known that since the beginning but hearing other medics confirmed it only scared him more. He held onto Martin tightly begging and pleading softly into the man's ear that he would pull through. But he knew Martin couldn't possibly have anymore fight left in him. 

Upon landing they whisked Martin away quickly towards the clinic where he would be taken immediately to surgery. Frank watched them go, almost numb with dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys were so convincing I couldn't leave Martin for dead. As always, rate and review!


	14. Please....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!!!! Another chapter!!

"Miers," the surgeon called as he came out to the tiny waiting room. Frank pulled himself up and limped over on his crutches. Three hours. That was how long Martin had been in surgery. The surgeon had come out around the first hour and a half admitting that the internal damage from the knife had been more serious than they thought and they would be a while. The doctor's face was grim. 

"H-how is he?" Frank asked timidly. 

"For now he's stable. We lost him twice on the table. The amount of blood he lost was nearly lethal." He stopped for a moment as Frank let the news sink in. Twice, twice Martin was almost gone forever. He took a shaky breath. "He also contracted a very serious infection between the whip wounds on his back and the stab wound as well as the untreated wounds from the plane crash. He had a very slow leak in his left lung from the fractured rib but nothing too serious there. Also his shoulder appears to have been dislocated but then reset. I have no concerns about that. Our biggest concern right now is the infection. Currently he's running a very high fever and has an abdominal drain in. We're also putting him on a respirator for the time being as his body appears too weak to handle breathing and healing." He sighed and removed his glasses, he face looking even grimmer. "As much as I'd like to be optimistic Miers I know the stats as well as you do. Sepsis is a hard hitting infection that can be lethal without full body capacity working against it. I just don't think he has the strength to fight this." Frank's heart sank.

"Can-can I see him?" Frank asked timidly. 

"You've been assigned to him as his attending physician. Obviously we'll be assigning another medic to help since you're currently immobile."

The doctor led Frank down the hall. They entered Martin's room and a hush came over him except the quiet hiss of the respirator as it breathed for Martin. The pilot in question looked like a corpse. If it wasn't for the mechanical rise and fall if his chest Frank would never have been able to tell he was alive. He was a grayish pale despite the bag of blood dripping into his body. His eyes were closed and there were so many tubes and wires attached to him. His eyes had dark rings under them. This was sepsis. This was how it killed. Frank knew the infection was ravaging the poor man's body. He limped over to him and put a hand on his forehead. Martin's fever was dangerously high. 

"I'll leave you two alone. I would prepare yourself Miers. He's given it all he's got Frank but I don't think it's going to be enough this time."

When the doctor left, Frank settled into a chair beside the bed. He took Martin's hand in his own, being careful of the IV line.

"Martin? Martin if you can hear me I'm begging you. I know you're tired and it's hard, but please. Please fight for me. You're like a son to me. You bring smiles and laughter to all who know you. You're a good pilot and things wouldn't be the same without you. Please, don't die. Please Martin. It's not your time to go yet." Frank bent his head and began to cry softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so cruel aren't i? Rate and review!!!


	15. Just For Spite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!! Sorry I'm so late. Spring break. Anyways, this one started angsty but I decided to end it in a bit of humor

Martin's heart stopped late that night. As long as Frank lived he would never forget the way Martin's body tensed up as a strangled cry escaped past the breathing tube before he went slack and everything stopped. He would especially never forget the way his frail body convulsed as the doctors were forced to jump start his heart again. When everything was working again the medic helping Frank looked at him.

"I fear this might be it," he said softly. 

Both men jumped as Martin took a deep fighting breath against the breathing tube. His eyes opened as he started panicking and his chest heaved rapidly.

"Martin? Martin I'm here. Just calm down. Quick! I need a sedative right now!" The medic put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sometimes there's a minute of lucidity before expiration..." He started to say.

"Bloody shut up! See for yourself! He's fighting! Now get me a sedative before he hurts himself!" The medic rushed out. "Hey. It's alright Martin. Does your stomach hurt?"

Martin gave a weak nod. 

"I bet. You've got a drain in right now. You've managed to catch a nasty infection. Never were one to do anything by bloody halves were you?" Frank nearly cried tears of relief when he saw Martin manage an eye roll. Underneath the pain and fever Martin was still there. All calm seemed to fall away though in a matter of minutes.

Martin tried to strain against the breathing tube, gagging and choking. His limbs flailed limply but his fevered mind was insisting that he needed to fight some unknown force. He lashed out at the doctor who kept attempting to approach him with a syringe of sedative. They ended up dosing him through his IV.

"That's it Martin. Just relax. You're ok. I'm right here. Just close your eyes," Frank soothed as he watched Martin slip away. He trembled as he held the young man's hand in his own, watching the mechanical rise and fall of his chest all night and eyeing the weak heartbeat with fear. 

Dawn woke Frank who had at some point fell asleep. He nearly jumped when he saw a nurse gently fiddling with Martin's IV and stomach tube. Must be reflex from his days in captivity. 

"H-how's he looking?" He asked as the nurse wet a flannel and mopped some of the sweat off Martin's face and neck.

"Well it's too early to be hopeful yet," she started to say, "but the fact that he made it through the night and started fighting the breathing tube has the doctor's amazed. They were all sure that he was going to pass away durning the night. He may have a chance."

Frank smiled a little. "He has more than a chance. He'll pull through just to spite us all."

"I certainly hope so. I-I always kinda liked him," the nurse said as she blushed. She patted Martin's hand before leaving.

"Hear that Martin? You're a charmer even when you look like death. Now you definitely need to get well so you can take her out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to get another chapter up soon! Rate and review!!!


	16. Long Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day!!!! That's to make up for the long time it took to update last time. Anyways here we go!!!!

3:30 AM: "Can't sleep Crieff. You're killing me here. I need you to wake up.

3:45 AM: "You're a real twat you know that?"

3:48 AM: "A real twat."

4:15 AM: "Come on Crieff. Wake up! That's an order. You've never disobeyed an order and now's not the time to start. 

4:25 AM "Ok. Maybe you just didn't know but the doctors are expecting you should be awake. It's been a couple days since they've given up and taken you off the sedatives. And well...you haven't yet. You need to wake up."

Frank sighed. It had been three days since the sedatives had quit pumping through Martin's IV. He wasn't making much progress and they were expecting him to pass away hours after taking him off the sedatives. Despite their predictions Martin continued to fight and now here they were. The drain hadn't pulled anything in the last day and Frank was starting to lose hope. 

4:35 AM: "Martin please. Please Martin. I can't stand it. I can't stand seeing you like this. You belong behind the wheel of a plane, not in a hospital bed. Just stop this please and open your eyes."

4:40 AM: "At least breathe for me again. You haven't in a while. At least do that."

4:50 AM: "Could you squeeze my hand?"

5:20 AM: "Martin. I don't know if you can hear me but you have to wake up. If-if this it, and you really are leaving me...well, at least don't leave without saying goodbye. You are the son I've never had and I couldn't thank you enough for that."

By now tears were running down Frank's face. Martin remained still and quiet. Frank held his hand all night, never taking his eyes off him. By morning his eyes had grown so use to the pale stillness that he almost missed it. The tiny flicker of Martin's eye lids. The chair he was sitting in made a loud screech as he moved forward and pressed the call button to summon his nurse and medic before turning his attention completely on Martin. 

"Martin? Martin are you with me? Squeeze my hand."

He felt slight pressure on his hand as very slowly Martin's eyes drifted open. They were clearer than they had been in days, not the hazy cloudiness of death that Frank expected. The doctor and the medic rushed in just as Martin started taking several fighting breaths against the machine. The nurse disconnected the breathing tube from the ventilator and watched Martin's stats to see if he could breathe on his own yet. The doctor began checking Martin's fever, lungs, and heart beat before gently pressing against his belly again. Martin kept his eyes fixed on Frank.

The doctor reconnected the tube to the ventilator before turning back to Frank. "I-I can't believe it but it's a complete miracle. His fever has broken and is slowly going down and the infection in his abdomen is nearly gone. He's still too weak to breathe on his own yet but the fact that he's breathing a little on his own is a good sign. He-he might actually have a chance," the doctor said.

Frank looked over at Martin, who gave him a wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!!! Everything turned out in the end!!!! One more chapter left!!! As always rate an review!!!


	17. Flashback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter guys!! Sorry it's so late. I guess I was sad to end it. Anyways, here it goes!

"Skip? Skip!" Arthur's voice shook him out of his flashback.

"Hmm what?" Martin asked startled.

"Well, when I asked you about the dog tags you always wear you got all...quiet," Arthur pointed out.

Martin glanced at Douglas who was eyeing him curiously and he felt the tips of his ears go red. "Um well...I-I was in the RAF for a while," he sputtered out. 

"Wow skip! You were in the Air Force? Cool!" 

"I didn't know you were in the Air Force Martin," Douglas commented cooly.

"Oh well, i-it's not like I saw much action. I caught a severe case of pneumonia and that kinda ended it," Martin said as he looked away.

As Arthur continued to babble on about how brilliant it must have been to be in the Air Force Martin tucked himself away with his thoughts. He never talked about the events that unfolded while in captivity. After making a miraculous recovery Martin left the Air Force. He spent months in therapy for severe PTSD. Despite not needing help anymore he still found himself jumpy, nervous, lacking self confidence, and most of all afraid. He was afraid not to follow the rules. Breaking the rules had almost gotten him killed. It was months before he found himself re emerging into society. Of all things planes had been his bait. While reading an article he came across former RAF pilots who were now commercial pilots for charter firms and airlines. Martin thought this to be a perfect job. He could still do what he loved and it would be a safe environment for him. Despite failing six times he eventually attained his CPL and so his endeavor with MJN began.

He would never forget his time in the RAF and once a month, faithfully, Martin calls up Frank just to chat, and just between him and Martin, Frank would always be Martin's best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! It thought this would be a good explanation as to why Martin is the way he is. Anyways. Thank you all for reading!!! I'm planning on writing many more fics!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Cliff hanger!!!!!! This is my first fic so let me know if it's worth continuing.


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